


Mike Adams, Justina Vorrutyer, and Wyx Hargraves, Authors of Macbeth

by a_t_rain



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Cultural Differences, Gen, References to Shakespeare, Sergyar, Teaching, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:58:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_t_rain/pseuds/a_t_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Betan, a Barrayaran, and a Jacksonian attempt to resolve a burning scholarly question: what would have happened if Macbeth had access to Vorkosiverse reproductive technology?  (NOTE: This story makes use of places and concepts from <i>Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen</i>, but contains no real spoilers.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mike Adams, Justina Vorrutyer, and Wyx Hargraves, Authors of Macbeth

**Author's Note:**

> So, I may be the only person in the world who read GJ&RQ and immediately wanted fic about what it would be like to be a _humanities_ professor at Kareenburg University, but at any rate, here is that fic.

Charlotte Mahon, Professora of Old Earth Literature at Kareenburg University, was having a frustrating term.

It wasn’t that she had anything _against_ the university’s initiative to recruit more students from outside of the Imperium, in theory. Politically speaking, she was a good Progressive, and believed in diversity and the free exchange of ideas among cultures. Practically speaking, she recognized that galactics paid full freight, and kept a young, struggling university financially afloat.

But, _also_ practically speaking, having a room full of galactics made her job harder. They weren’t the best students their home-worlds had to offer, because the best students got snapped up by the famous universities on Earth and Beta and Escobar. They arrived without a great deal of cultural knowledge that people from Charlotte’s home-world of Barrayar found intuitive, and they often made little attempt to assimilate or adjust their worldview. They were perplexed by simple words, like _unsex_ and _brainsickly_ and _equivocator_ and _parricide_ , and sometimes by simple concepts as well.

Mike Adams, an earnest young Betan, was the worst of the bunch. He meant well, but he was perpetually derailing Charlotte’s Introduction to Shakespeare class, which was a general education requirement for galactics and citizens of the Imperium alike. He _could_ not seem to fathom why Duncan found it necessary to strip the thane of Cawdor of his titles and execute him, rather than sending him off for therapy, or why Lady Macbeth chose to pray to dark spirits instead of checking into the nearest medical center for sex reassignment surgery.

“Professor?” he asked, as Charlotte was trying to engage the class in a discussion of Macbeth’s soliloquy from the beginning of the third act.

At least Mike made an attempt to use proper academic titles, rather than calling faculty by their first names as some of the other Betan exchange students did, so Charlotte suppressed the urge to point out that she was, in fact, a _Professora_. Justina Vorrutyer, sitting a couple of rows back from the Adams boy, muttered something snarky and semi-audible about _practicing Betan surgery without a license_.

“Yes?”

“I don’t understand why Macbeth is so upset that the witches predicted that Banquo’s children would be kings, or why he thinks it means he can’t leave the kingdom to his own kids. Why couldn’t Banquo and Macbeth just have a baby _together?_ ”

Justina snorted. “Because it was _eleventh-century Scotland_ , so they didn’t have smug Betan exchange students around to tell them how the Betan way would be so much better.”

Justina was the cousin-once-removed of the present Count Vorrutyer, who was financing her education, and who had the potential to become a lucrative donor if he were pleased with the result. The Dean had made sure all of Justina’s professors were apprised of this fact. Just now, Charlotte _did not care_. “ _Enough_ out of you, Mademoiselle Vorrutyer. Mr. Adams, remember what I said last week about being aware of the historical context. The technology to do that didn’t exist yet.”

Wyx Hargraves, the spoiled grandson of a Jacksonian Baron, grumbled, “I don’t see the point of studying any of this Old Earth literature stuff. It isn’t relevant in today’s society.”

“I’m here for a _math degree_ ,” Justina added, “and just about everyone else in this room is studying biology or geology. It isn’t relevant to _any_ of us.”

There was a brief silence, and then Mike Adams offered up a feeble defense of Shakespeare that was, to Charlotte’s mind, worse than an attack. “But of course, it’s useful to study how primitive people think, because there are still cultures like that out in the galaxy, and we need to know how to re-educate them.”

Charlotte was pretty sure he was clueless enough about recent Barrayaran history that he didn’t realize how badly remarks about re-educating primitive people would be received by his audience. Justina hissed under her breath, and several of the Barrayaran boys looked ready to attack him then and there. “ _Ooh_ ,” commented Wyx Hargraves. “Hit a nerve, did we?”

God. She just wanted them _out of her hair_ so she could teach _Shakespeare!_ Was that too much to ask?

“Mr. Adams, Mademoiselle Vorrutyer, Baronet Hargraves,” she said, without pausing to think about what she was going to say and whether it was a good idea or not. “You are dismissed for the day, as you are creating a disruptive learning environment. Before you return to class, you will complete an additional written assignment. _Collaboratively_. Your assignment is to write what would have happened in the last three acts of _Macbeth_ if Macbeth had access to modern reproductive technology, and had hit upon the idea of having a child with Banquo and making that child his heir. You’re not to change _anything_ else about the characters. They must think and act in ways consistent with how they’re characterized in the play, just with modern medicine. Oh, and you’re not to read any farther in _Macbeth_ than we’ve read already, or look up anything about the plot.” She turned to Justina, the only one of them who was likely to have encountered Shakespeare’s play before. “You may serve as a consultant on Shakespeare’s culture and times, but you’re not to tell them anything about what happens in the original play after Act 3, scene 1. On your word as Vorrutyer.”

“My word as Vorrutyer,” Justina echoed. For once, she seemed too startled to argue back. Charlotte was feeling pretty stunned herself, and wondered what had possessed her.

* * *

Charlotte wondered, as she walked home, just how badly she had screwed up. She wasn’t the only faculty member to have clashed with the Vorrutyer girl, who was undeniably bright, but also snarky, arrogant, disinclined to see any value in the humanities, and (Charlotte was almost certain), especially fresh with _prole_ professors. Charlotte’s department chair, who was Komarran and had no particular liking for Vor, would almost certainly sympathize. Still, Justina had the Dean in her corner.

Charlotte tried to tell herself that she hadn’t done anything disastrously wrong by _calling_ Justina on her behavior. After all, if she understood Justina’s family situation correctly, the reason her own father wasn’t paying for her education was that he was in prison for conspiring to assault his cousin – the same cousin who was now the Count. This circumstance suggested that Count Vorrutyer, considered as a patron, was both more eccentric and more forgiving than the Dean seemed to think.

Wyx Hargraves gave her more pause, because it was quite possible that if you offended the grandson of a Jacksonian baron, you’d get _assassinated_. Still, the young man skipped class half the time anyway and ignored the assigned reading the rest of the time, so he probably wouldn’t regard being kicked out of class and forbidden to read any further as a _punishment_.

She did feel a bit guilty about Mike Adams, who hadn’t exactly misbehaved. He was just _frustrating_.

She walked past a construction site, stepping into the street to avoid the mud. New street, new buildings, all laid out very logically and precisely. New settlements mushrooming everywhere, once you got out of Kayburg. Everything new at once: that was Sergyar. She’d emigrated without hesitation because academic jobs were scarce, especially in the humanities, but it would not have been Charlotte’s first choice. She preferred older, quieter places.

She wondered if, after all, the students were right, and Shakespeare was irrelevant here. Most of the university’s shoestring budget went toward the sciences. This was reasonable enough – after all, as Justina had pointed out, biology and geology were the real draws on Sergyar, at least for off-planet students. And the science departments _needed_ equipment to function. You could teach Shakespeare in an empty box if you had to. Sometimes that was exactly what Charlotte felt like she was doing.

But it was the _indifference_ that killed her, the sense that anything that wasn’t new and forward-thinking and ... and _laid out in a grid pattern_ had no place in their new home.

She thought of the island in _The Tempest_ , the closest thing Shakespeare had ever written to Sergyar. His castaways had dreamt of turning it into a perfect world. _I’ the commonwealth I would by contraries / Execute all things, for no kind of traffic / Would I admit; no name of magistrate; / Letters should not be known._ It was not that any of the people who were busily perfecting Sergyar wanted to ban _letters_ , as such, but the Vicereine and her personally appointed board of university regents had made it clear that their priorities lay elsewhere. Did anybody really want or need Shakespeare in Utopia?

Goddammit, _yes_ , she thought. _Remember / First to possess his books, for without them / He’s but a sot, as I am._ Caliban had the right of it. Books _mattered_.

* * *

The three students met at Justina’s off-campus flat, which was less cramped than the galactic students’ residence hall. It still felt awfully daring to have _boys_ over, even though Dono had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t care what she did, as long as she had a contraceptive implant. Not that she would ever think of doing _that_ with Wyx, let alone Mike. Vorrutyers might not have much in the way of virtue, but they did have _standards._

“Nice kitty,” said Mike.

Jackie was so white and fluffy that everyone wanted to pet her, but that was almost always a bad idea. Justina privately thought it would serve the goody-goody Betan right if he got a face full of claws, but _Jackie_ didn’t deserve to be harassed. “She doesn’t like being touched by anyone except me.”

“Oh, sorry. I guess they’ve got boundaries, same as people.”

Unexpectedly, Justina began to warm to Mike a little. “Yeah, they do. Do either of you guys want a soda or anything?”

“You got any liquor to put in it?” asked Wyx.

“No,” Justina lied. Alcohol was heavily taxed on Sergyar – one of the Vicereine’s attempts at social engineering – and she was _so_ not wasting her scanty stock of vodka on Wyx Hargraves. Besides, this wasn’t a social visit; they had an _assignment_ to complete.

“Just kidding. Soda’s fine.”

“So,” said Mike, as Justina returned with the soda and they sat down to work, “if Macbeth had a kid with Banquo, that would solve all of everyone’s problems.”

“Yeah,” said Wyx. “So we write that down, and then go home. Easiest homework ever.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Justina. “Lady Macbeth would need to know about it, right, if Macbeth plans to make him the heir? And Banquo and Macbeth seemed pretty close right at the beginning, before they met the witches?”

“So?”

“I’m just _saying_. If my husband suddenly announced that he was having a baby with one of his friends, I’d be pretty suspicious that they were more than friends, you know?”

Mike looked puzzled. “So you’re saying we should add a scene where Lady Macbeth sits down with Macbeth, and they have a conversation about whether he’s bisexual, and if so, whether they should begin an ethical and mutually consensual polyamorous relationship with Banquo?”

“No!” yelped Justina and Wyx at the same time.

“That’s what a _Betan_ would do,” Justina explained. “Once and for all, _this play is not about Betans_.”

“Okay, fine,” said Mike, although he still didn’t look as if he really understood the concept of things-that-weren’t-about-Betans. “So what would Lady Macbeth do if she wasn’t a Betan?”

“It would dishonor her,” said Justina. She thought back to a certain prole ballad about what her great-great-great-grandmother, Pierre le Sanguinaire’s wife, had done to his favorite armsman. Her father and uncles had always maintained the ballad was a scurrilous lie; Justina herself was not so sure. “She might not want Macbeth dead if she’s still in love with him, but she’d definitely want _Banquo_ dead.”

“And she’d want the kid dead,” said Wyx. “Because he’s supposed to be the _heir_ , and that would send a really strong message to Macbeth never to try anything like that again.”

“Do you really think she’d kill a _baby?_ ” asked Mike.

“This is Lady Macbeth we’re talking about,” said Justina. “She already _said_ in Act 1, scene 7 that she’d kill a baby. Or weren’t you paying attention?”

“I just find it hard to believe that anyone would –”

“Believe it.” Justina showed off her Vorfemme knife and explained its original purpose, which caused Mike to turn pale and shut up, at least briefly. “So,” she said, turning back to the play, “Lady Macbeth would try to kill Banquo and the child...”

“But not personally,” said Wyx. “Because at this point, she’s, like, the Baronne of all of Scotland. Baronnes don’t commit murders in person. It’s _uncivilized_.”

Mike blinked a little, but refrained from commenting on this unusual definition of _uncivilized_. He looked as though he had overdosed on cultural relativism, and might need to be taken to the hospital after they were done.

“I think she’s more like an Empress or a Countess,” said Justina, “and _Countesses_ have never had any problem committing murders in person. When they have a good reason, I mean.” Even the Vicereine had done it, for all she tried to act so _Betan_ most of the time.

“But Lady Macbeth doesn’t seem keen on that sort of thing,” Mike pointed out. “Because remember, back in Act 2 she said she would have killed Duncan herself, except he looked like her father when he slept...”

“All right, fair enough,” Justina conceded. She turned to Wyx. “So what would a Baronne do if she wanted someone dead?”

“They hire people,” said Wyx promptly. “Just like Macbeth does in the real play, when he wants to smoke Banquo and Fleance.”

“But in this version, Macbeth would want the child to _escape_ ,” said Justina. “He’d want that more than anything. And maybe he would notice that his wife was acting funny...”

“... So he’d hire people of his own,” suggested Wyx. “Oh, I know, we could write a scene where Lady Macbeth sends the two murderers to kill Banquo and the kid, and then this third guy shows up...”

“And they’re going to be like ‘Who sent you?’” said Mike, beginning to catch on, “and then the third man would say ‘Macbeth,’ and they’d have to let him join them, because Macbeth’s the king. And he could make sure the kid escapes.”

“But Banquo gets killed,” said Wyx. “And then maybe he should come back as a ghost, and only Lady Macbeth can see him, so then she freaks out in public and people start to get suspicious...”

“Oh, that would make a great twist,” said Mike. “What happens next?”

“Malcolm and Donalbain,” said Justina. “They were _already_ suspicious, and now they’re going to be out for revenge.”

“Yeah,” said Wyx. “When you take over a Great House, you have to watch where the exiles go, especially the Baron’s children, because sooner or later they’re going to want to take it back. So I bet Macbeth would have spies in – wherever it is they went –”

Justina consulted the end of Act 2. “England and Ireland.”

“So we could write a whole scene where somebody slips over the border into England, and Malcolm thinks he’s a spy from Macbeth, but eventually he convinces him he’s for real, and Malcolm makes a Deal with the Baron of England to raise an army and take the kingdom back from Macbeth.”

“What somebody?” asked Mike.

“I dunno. Macduff? He seemed like he didn’t really trust Macbeth.”

“So how would Malcolm know Macduff _isn’t_ one of Macbeth’s spies?”

“If he were a spy ...” said Justina slowly. (She’d actually seen the thing done once, when she was just a kid.) “... He’d be _trying_ to provoke Malcolm into showing his worst side. So he’d agree with whatever Malcolm said, and indulge him and lead him on. So maybe Malcolm pretends to be a really bad person, to see whether Macduff says oh, that’s all right, you still deserve to be king no matter what. And when Macduff _doesn’t_ say that, let’s say he gets angry and tells Malcolm to shape up, maybe Malcolm starts to trust him...” Yeah, Malcolm would do that. He was _clever_. Her father had not been clever.

“Oh, that’s good,” said Wyx, writing furiously.

“About Lady Macbeth,” said Mike. “She’s got all this _repressed guilt_ , and the ghost of Banquo haunting her and everything, and the psychologists say that’s really bad for you. Repressed guilt, I mean, not ghosts. Well, probably ghosts too, because I bet they’re _stressful_.”

“So?” asked Justina.

“So if she didn’t get therapy, I bet she’d go insane. What’s it like when people go insane?” Mike didn’t seem to be _looking_ at Justina, particularly – but she glared at him, anyway, because it always annoyed her when people thought Vorrutyers had _special knowledge_ about this particular topic.

“I bet it’s a lot like being on fast-penta,” said Wyx.

Mike stared at him. “Have you ever taken fast-penta?”

“No, but I’ve seen people on it. I’ve sat in when my grandfather interviews people for jobs.”

“They give you fast-penta at a _job interview_ on Jackson’s Whole?” asked Mike, appalled.

“Yeah. How else would they know you were telling the truth about your background and work experience?”

“So how do people act when they’ve taken it?”

“They want to confess to stuff,” said Wyx. “So she’d talk about Duncan, and about Banquo, and about everything else she and Macbeth did, but it would be kind of disjointed, and mixed up with other memories and talk about normal everyday stuff. So one minute she’d be talking about murder, and then the next minute she’d be rambling on about, I dunno, washing her hands...”

“Better make it a symbolic thing,” said Justina. “Trying to wash the guilt off. Mahon would _love_ that.”

“We could kill her off after that,” said Wyx. “Pretty much everybody always gets killed off in Shakespeare anyway. We could make it mysterious – suicide, or accident, or maybe Banquo’s ghost giving her a little push.”

“And Macbeth is going to realize that he basically gave everything in exchange for the kingship,” said Justina slowly. “His best friend, his wife, his kid, his honor, his peace of mind. He’s going to wonder whether any of it meant anything.”

“How do we end it?” asked Mike.

“Revenge, totally,” said Wyx. “Malcolm and Macduff and the Baron of England’s mercenaries attack.”

“And one of them needs to come out with Macbeth’s head at the end,” said Justina, “so he can show it to all the nobles and prove he’s dead.”

“Yeah,” said Wyx. “You never assume a Baron’s dead unless you can see his head, and it’s _not_ in a cryochamber. Even then, you want to check to make sure he hasn’t had a clone made.”

“We could write _Macbeth II: Attack of the Clone_ ,” suggested Mike.

“Maybe some other time,” said Justina. “I think we’ve got enough right now to turn in to Professora Mahon, once we finish writing it up.”

* * *

The Curriculum Committee, over Charlotte’s protests, had just voted to abolish the Shakespeare requirement in favor of a range of different options, including contemporary galactic literature. They insisted that Shakespeare would still be _offered_ , but Charlotte could see the writing on the wall.

Rather grumpily, she had gone directly to the university library and checked out all the books they had about Cetagandan poetry. If they wanted contemporary galactic lit, then by God she was going to _teach_ contemporary galactic lit. With a vengeance.

The knock on her office door, a couple of hours later, came as a welcome relief. Either the modern Cetagandan poets were too subtle for Charlotte (possibly), or they were just crashingly dull (probably). And students complained that _Shakespeare_ was too difficult? Ha, they didn’t know how lucky they were.

“Come in,” said Charlotte.

Mike Adams, Justina Vorrutyer, and Wyx Hargraves stood there with a sheaf of handwritten papers. “We’re finished,” said Justina flatly.

“Can we come back to class now?” asked Mike.

“Yeah, and finish reading the play?” said Wyx. “Because now I kind of want to know what happens in the real play.”

 _Well_ , now! Charlotte elected not to react, but apparently she’d actually tricked them into some sort of _engagement_. She added her improvised assignment to her mental list of unorthodox pedagogical gambits born of desperation that actually _worked_. She had quite a few of those, though whether they worked a second time was always a gamble.

As she read through the play they’d written, she found it harder and harder not to let her enthusiasm show.

“Well, this is ... interesting,” she said at last. “You’ve basically written _Macbeth_. In modern English, with a few minor changes to the plot. _Surprisingly_ minor, though, all things considered.”

“Does that mean we did a good job?” Mike asked hopefully.

“Yes, I’d say so. It’s ... certainly true to character. Mr. Adams, Baronet Hargraves, I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Mademoiselle Vorrutyer, I’d like to have a quick word with you, please.”

The two young men went out. Justina remained, looking at Charlotte warily. _She’s always been at least as wary as she is defiant_ , Charlotte thought. _Why didn’t I see it before?_

“You _really_ didn’t give them any hints about what happens in the rest of _Macbeth?_ ” Charlotte asked. “Word of honor?”

Justina shook her head. “I don’t actually _know_ what happens in the rest of _Macbeth_. I’ve never read it before.”

“Not in secondary school?”

“My secondary schooling was ... interrupted. About a week before we were supposed to start _Macbeth_.”

“Oh. And you’ve never seen it on stage?”

Justina snorted. “I wasn’t raised by the sort of people who _took us to the theater_.”

Charlotte had always vaguely supposed that all high-Vor parents took their children to the theater. Another illusion shattered. “You’ve never even heard anybody discussing the _plot?_ ”

Justina shrugged. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I was paying attention.”

“You did most of the actual writing, I see,” Charlotte commented. It was definitely _Barrayaran_ handwriting – more elegant than readable, with a sprinkling of Greek and Cyrillic letters – and besides, the style and vocabulary were much better than anything she’d seen from Wyx or Mike.

“They’re _boys_ ,” said Justina with a snort. “‘Course I did.”

“You could have said no.”

“They wouldn’t have done as good a job. Besides...” She trailed off.

“You were enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah, I guess I was, a little,” Justina admitted.

“It’s well-written. You’ve got a gift for this.”

Justina didn’t actually manage anything as polite as a “thank you,” but she did look pleased, and she lingered a moment instead of bolting for the door. “You know ... I was just thinking. Lady Macbeth has already had one baby, and even if that baby died, she could probably have more. Macbeth even seems to be _expecting_ her to have more, when he tells her to ‘bring forth men-children only’.”

“Yes,” said Charlotte. “And?”

“So if Banquo already has a son, and Macbeth and Lady Macbeth could have a daughter ... then there’s a really obvious way that Macbeth’s _and_ Banquo’s descendants could both end up as kings. _Without_ modern technology.”

“So there is.” Charlotte had learned not to push in too hard when students were thinking.

“But Macbeth doesn’t even seem to think of it. The possibility never crosses his mind.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“So ... he wouldn’t have come up with the idea of creating a baby with Banquo in the first place, not even if they’d had the technology back then. That just _isn’t where his mind goes_. He’s all about death, not life.”

“Yes. I’d never thought of it that way, but you’re absolutely right. He’s limited by his own mind.”

“I guess that’s why we study this stuff,” said Justina slowly. “Technology changes. People don’t.”

 _Ha_ , Charlotte thought, _a convert!_ She tried not to gloat visibly.

“See you tomorrow?”

 _And_ tomorrow, _and_ tomorrow, Charlotte mentally supplied. Suddenly those _ands_ no longer felt wearisome, but instead rich with possibilities. “See you tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning a longer story about Justina eventually, which will explain about the interruption to her secondary schooling and how she ended up as Dono's protege. For now, let it suffice to say that she was the first, and possibly the only one, of Richars's kids to escape.


End file.
